Let Me Take You On A Journey
by A Damned Scientist
Summary: Aeryn and John chase a murderer and pick up some sing-along videos for Deke. Crossover with something unspeakable...
1. Author Notes

**Let Me Take You On A Journey**

Aeryn and John chase a murderer and pick up some sing-along videos for Deke.

**Disclaimer** Neither FS nor Balamory belong to me.

**Settings and Spoilers: **

This is a crossover between FS and Balamory (a BBC show for children under 5 set on a remote Scottish island), but it also borrows heavily from…. Something Else. Something much darker. Clues: It was a book and, a long time ago, a short BBC TV adaption. Kudos to anyone who identifies that Something Else.

Farscape. About 3 years post PKW, if only because at one point John says Dee is about three.  
Balamory. Episodes tend to center on such things as shopping for a packet of biscuits (cookies) and having a cup of tea, all set to song. There isn't much story arc to worry about.

**Rating: T.** It is probably OK for most teenagers but, fair warning! Please note that this fic IS NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN. There is horror, violence, bad language, allusions to smut…. That is why I have not posted it as a Crossover: I don't want to risk kids stumbling across it

**Rambling Remarks and Thanks:**

As with Common Ground, this story is somewhat tongue-in-cheek: 'Serious' fans may find some of the characterisations a little 'off.' But then, I hope no serious fans of Balamory are reading this story, I really do….

This is part of what seems to be developing into a loose series of stories (so far all crossovers) I like to think of as 'John and Aeryn go shopping.' After all what else do married couples do? Previous instalments include: Framed; Common Ground.

Last but not least, many thanks to JJ and pdsldl for their outstanding beta-ing. I must apologise for the Translator Microbes not being able to cope with some of the dialect spoken in this fic. As JJ rightly pointed out, there shouldn't have been a problem. However, I kept the idea in as I thought it would be fun to confuse Aeryn. So, as with anything, blame me. Also, there are some words you may not recognize, although my betas really tried to help me improve this. Once again, blame me not them if there is a Failure To Communicate.

**Word Count:** 8450 


	2. What's The Story?

**Let Me Take You On A Journey.**

The creature emerged from the wreckage of its ship. Its head hurt. It hurt so much. And the blood across its eyes made it hard for it to see. Tearing apart the other beings on the ship had made the creature feel a little better for a while, had made the pain seem less, but now it's companions were all dead, the creature needed new distractions. The creature sniffed the air. It was cold and smelt of salt water. It didn't like the cold. Cold made it even angrier. But there, in the distance, was the scent it had been searching for. Human. And a sound like singing. Good. The creature remembered that it had been looking for a human. A human who sometimes sung. As it lumbered into the mist, it wondered how easy it would be to pull a human apart. It smiled, although, had anyone been watching, they would not have found that to be an encouraging development.

xxxx

Miss Hoolie, Balamory's kindergarten teacher, looked out of her window as she ate her wholesome breakfast of porridge, washed down by lashings of hot, sweet tea. She noted happily that today was going to be foggy, just like the previous days had been all week. It was often foggy on Balamory.

The island of Balamory, some way off the West coast of Scotland, was always at its most peaceful when the boats weren't steaming in and out of the harbour. This week was doubly peaceful, as most of the summer visitors had gone and the phone lines linking the island to the rest of the world were down. The rumour was that a trawler had snagged the lines with its nets. There were no mobile phones on the island to replace the landlines as the island's rocky, rolling terrain and isolation from the mainland meant that there was no signal to be had. Miss Hoolie didn't mind: it all just made things even more peaceful on their quiet, isolated island.

Miss Hoolie put down her tea cup and put on her chirpiest, most toothsome smile to see her through the day. She paused at the door of her lime green house just long enough to don her matching lime green duffel coat and woolly hat, calling out to her lodger "Help yourself to tea and biscuits!" before she headed out, with a skip in her step and a song on her lips, for another day working at the Balamory nursery school.

Like many on the island, Miss Hoolie provided bed and breakfast accommodation for visiting tourists. Her latest lodger had been staying for three days, since just before the fog had halted the ferries. He was such a charming, well educated, well spoken man. He was a pleasure to have as a guest. He'd obviously been in some horrible accident to be scarred so, but he never mentioned what had caused his disfigurement and Miss Hoolie was too polite to bring the subject up. Truth be told, she found his mix of sophistication, mystery and perhaps danger to be quite attractive. Maybe she'd show him her reclining leather chair later. She blushed at the thought.

Today was a work day and Spencer, the local artist and decorator, was due to be coming over to help Miss Hoolie take the children on a nature walk around the edge of the local golf course. It seemed that work must be in quite short supply in the artist-and-decorator business at present. How else could he afford to spend his mornings helping her out? When 10 o'clock came, and Spencer still hadn't arrived at, or even telephoned, the nursery, Miss Hoolie picked up her phone and called him. No answer. She pondered for a moment. Then she called her best friend, PC Plum, to ask for his help in tracking down the missing painter. PC Plum chortled happily and promised to visit the painter's house, by way of the footpath through the golf course. Now that most of the summer tourists had left, Balamory's keeper of the peace spent most of his time on such low-key community police work. But PC Plum would do anything for Miss Hoolie.

xxxxx

PC Plum sang a cheerful ditty to himself as he trudged uphill, pushing his old bicycle up the rough steep, path and deeper into the thick mist which hung over the town like a low cloud. Both Plum and his bicycle were a little too sturdily built and traditionally styled to ride up such a path. Soon, he passed between gorse and heather and onto the golf course which stood high above the harbour town of Balamory. The fog which had enveloped the island was the sort which swallowed sound as well as sight, so PC Plum was unsurprised when he almost walked into a couple standing on the path, talking to each other in hushed tones. They were strangers to the island, a man and a woman, who were obviously dressed to keep out the elements, what with their head to toe black outfits and long, black, leather coats.

PC Plum announced his presence by clapping his hands together and rubbing them heartily.

"Lovely weather we're having," he opened, with entirely too much cheer for the circumstances. The woman turned her grey-blue eyes from her companion towards Plum who struggled to return her unnerving, unwavering gaze. As she registered his words, her expression went from confused to irritated then on to blank in the space of a single breath. She blinked once and stared at Plum in a manner he found most disturbing. Island folk just didn't do that. Plum's normally chirpy demeanour evaporated under her unsettling, icy gaze, and he took a step back away from her, laughing nervously. After Plum had writhed uneasily under her stare for a few seconds, she looked him up and down, openly appraising him. When she had finished, she did a poor job of hiding her assessment.

"You are the local law enforcement officer? And this is your transportation?" She asked with a derisive snort and an English accent. Plum was quite put out. He generally liked everyone, but he was upset at the dismissive manner of the Sassenach woman. He puffed his chest out and hooked his thumb into the shoulder of his jacket. Added to which, how dare she insult his trusty steed? Of course, Plum had seen pictures of the sort of bicycles used by the police in more fancy places, but he was a traditionalist, and he favoured a traditional policeman's bicycle. It seemed to be a better fit with how he saw himself than one of those fancy modern bikes, what with all their gears and suspension and other accoutrements.

"PC Plum. Chief of Police on Balamory," he replied, trying to assert his dignity, but not adding that he was the only policeman on the island and the old bicycle was indeed his only transport. "And you would be?"

"Officer Aeryn Sun," she replied, holding out a long, slim hand for him to shake.

Her companion coughed and interrupted, "From Scotland Yard. She's Flying Squad," the man put in hurriedly in what was clearly an American accent. Sun frowned briefly then shot a glance at her companion, without withdrawing her hand.

"Flying squad," she echoed with a quick nod of her head.

Plum took her hand and began to pump her arm too vigorously in his normal manner and…. Ow! She had a handshake like a blacksmith's! Plum retrieved his hand and tried to wiggle some life back into his mangled fingers. "I wasn't aware you were on Balamory: I should have been informed, proper channels and all that …" he continued, although his silly grin did not fade.

"We weren't expecting to be here ourselves," explained the man.

"And you would be?" Plum asked.

"Ummm. Commander John Crichton, umm, US…. Air Force," he explained. Although even Plum could tell that there was something not quite right about what he was saying. Plum was Balamory's finest, he was trained to tell when was someone wasn't telling the truth.

"So, have you flyboys lost something, then?" asked Plum, jumping to the obvious conclusion. The air above the rugged, remote islands was often used for military training flights, so it was not entirely unknown for them to have military visitors who kept to themselves.

"In a manner of speaking," drawled Crichton, looking around him as though trying to detach himself from the conversation.

"And we have found something, too. Look," Sun added, her manner still oddly flat to Plum's thinking. She pointed to something lying several meters to the side of the path. It took Plum a few moments to recognize it for what it was, the remains of a sheep. The fact that it was in several distinct parts suggested, to a trained observer like PC Plum, that this sheep had not met a natural or peaceful end.

"Och, it's just a poor sheep: Looks like a wild beastie got it," Plum explained. There was nothing to be done for the animal now, except let the local farmer know about it so he could clear up the mess. These things happened. "Look, I have to press on," Plum finished.

"Do you mind if we walk with you?" the man asked. "We were headed that way." He nodded up the path where Plum had been walking.

"Och, no, not at all," replied Plum in his usual jovial way as the three of them fell into step, ascending further into the mist.

"So, have you seen anything out of the ordinary recently?" Sun asked Plum after they had gone just a few paces.

"What, you mean like strange visitors? UFOs? Wooo!" Plum replied, affecting a silly voice and waving his fingers in front of him.

At that moment Commander Crichton seemed to be afflicted with a coughing fit. Sun gave them both serious-looking sideways glances. "John!" she snapped, seeming to Plum as though she were scolding her companion. "Have you seen any? UFOs?" Sun asked PC Plum. Plum was astonished that there did not seem to be any sense of fun or even mockery in her manner.

"Och, no!" laughed Plum grinning inanely. "Nothing as peculiar as that ever happens here! Why do you ask?"

"Just curious…." Sun replied, a little too hurriedly.

Crichton's coughing fit subsided.

"So, where are you heading now?" Crichton asked.

"Oh, I'm just going to check on a friend. Spencer, the local painter."

"Check on a friend, huh? So, and I'm only guessing here, but would that mean there's not much actual crime here to investigate right now? No disappearances. No murders?" The American asked in what Plum took to be a condescending way. It seemed Officer Sun thought so too.

"John! Leave the man alone!" she scolded.

"Yes, ma'am," he leered back at her, tipping an imaginary cap. She snorted in disgust and looked the opposite way.

"No, nothing like that. Of course not. This is a quiet place," Plum replied.

Just then, a blood curdling scream rent the air.

Plum stopped dead in his tracks. The scream, and those which had followed for what seemed like half a minute, but was probably only a few seconds, before they were mercifully stilled, had immediately tipped the hapless policeman into a state of some fear and confusion. As he struggled out of his inactivity, he noticed that his companions had both pulled unfeasibly large black handguns, of some strange design, from under their long black coats and were now apparently busy checking their readiness for use.

"Now hang on a moment….. you can't just go gallivanting about the island with guns…." PC Plum admonished them.

Aeryn Sun raised an eyebrow at him in reply, before snapping her gun back into the holster on her thigh. Crichton ignored him entirely and hurried up the path in the direction from which the screams had come.

"If you would like to investigate without us and our weapons, the screams came from that direction, I believe," Sun replied, pointing up the path towards the headland, towards the vanishing form of her American companion.

"Ah…" conceded PC Plum. "Perhaps I was too hasty?"

"Perhaps you were," agreed Sun, sweeping back her coat to draw her gun once more, hurrying into the mist after her companion.

"W...…wait!" called Plum as he realized he was in danger of being left alone in the mist.

xxxxxxxxx

"Oooh, messy," commented Crichton at the dismembered and slightly charred human remains which littered the path and the golf course for as far as the mist allowed them to see. Otherwise all was quiet, and a quick check of the area by Officer Sun had revealed that the assailant had left the area but had not left any obvious clues as to their identity.

"Are you done vomiting now?" Sun asked PC Plum casually and in a tone which he regarded as rather unsympathetic. "I think this might be the head. Do you recognize who it is?" She asked pointing with her boot towards a slick, wet and unnaturally coloured mossy outcrop. Plum lurched across to see what she was pointing at and promptly threw up again.

"Spencer…" Plum managed to get out between heaves.

Crichton came up behind him and peered across his shoulder towards where Sun was looking.

"Scarrans?" Plum thought he heard Crichton ask Sun. What on earth did that mean the policeman wondered? Sun frowned and gave a single, sharp shake of her head.

"It's too deranged even for them. And it's sure as Hezmana not Scorpius," she replied, adding to Plum's confusion as to what they were talking about. Crichton turned his attention to Plum, laying a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"Spencer? The painter guy, right? The one you were looking for?" Plum nodded, then Crichton nodded as well, as though it all made sense to him. "That figures: First rule of the movies: The black guy always gets it," Crichton observed with a shrug. "You done yet?" Plum wiped the mess from his face and nodded as John continued. "Because this wasn't our screamer. I reckon the scream came more from that way," He waved his gun to indicate further up the path where a pink, castle-like building could just be seen each time the mist ebbed a little. "Well, I don't reckon first-aid or CPR is going to be much help for Mr. Spencer. Maybe we'll find some answers following the scream?"

Sun nodded agreement and the two began to make their way towards the castle.

"W... wait," Plum called for the second time in just a few minutes and hurried after them.

xx

Plum caught up with his new companions just in front of the pink tower. He was just in time to lose sight of them again as the pair split up, he going to the left, she to the right, to do a quick perimeter check of the building. Plum waited anxiously, hiding in the shrubbery. He nearly had a heart attack when a hand landed on his shoulder from behind. Clutching his chest, he warily turned his head, afraid of what he might see.

"There is no sign of anyone. I suggest we check inside, Officer Plum," Aeryn said to him with a casual shrug. At that moment Crichton appeared in front of them and nodded in greeting to his companion. Although Plum wished heartily that she hadn't crept up on him, he was relieved to notice that both newcomers were still holding their strange looking pistols.

Twenty long and tense minutes later they concluded their search of the tower: Archie, the owner, was not at home, and, to all of their surprise, there was no sign of foul play.

Plum picked up the phone and tried to call the mainland Police Station into which he nominally reported. Dealing with crazed murderers was not part of his job description and he knew he needed to call in the Big Boys to deal with a murder and its aftermath. Right now, he longed for the sort of familiar-faced Police colleagues he could relate to, rather than heavily-armed enigmatic strangers, one of whom wasn't even British, for heaven's sake!

"The line off the island's dead…." Plum commented.

Crichton laughed, "Why am I not surprised?" came his laconic, drawled rejoinder. "The phone lines always get cut." The woman gave a long-suffering sigh at that remark and rolled her eyes.

"Look, what's going on here? What do you know?" Plum asked, about half an hour later than he really should have. The newcomers exchanged meaningful glances. "And can you two show me some ID?"

Crichton coughed and fished around in his pockets, pulling out a number of curious objects and piling them on the kitchen table before he found a well-worn, laminated photo-ID with his name and rank on it. Sun merely cocked her head to one side and watched. "This is all I've got," Crichton explained with a take-it-or-leave-it smile. As PC Plum gave the ID a cursory glance (it was all but meaningless to him – he had never seen such an ID before). Sun shrugged and turned her attention from Crichton and his pocket contents to Plum.

"I do not have anything. You will just have to trust me for now," she explained to Plum as he shifted nervously under her withering gaze.

"Well, what do you know, then? What's going on?" he replied, trying once again to exert some authority.

"Officer Plum," Sun began with a deep breath. "Yes, we're looking for someone. A military type. We tracked his craft to this island."

"And he….. you think he murdered Spencer?"

Both of them shook their heads. "We're not sure. I mean, he's dangerous, quite capable of killing someone, but that whole…. mess… up there. That's…." put in Crichton.

"That is not how we would expect him to behave," interrupted Sun. "In addition, there were the burns."

"So, now we're wondering if there's someone else on your island," continued Crichton.

"Or something," muttered Sun, too disturbingly for Plum's liking.

"Other than your pilot chappie?" Sun frowned at the word, as though it were unfamiliar. How odd, thought Plum. She shook her head, as though dismissing something from her mind.

"Other than our pilot, yes," she confirmed. "And whatever it is, it seems to be highly dangerous. We need to gather everyone together; somewhere they can be protected from whatever this is."

"There's no one else likely to be up around here, is there?" John asked Plum.

"Just Donald the Coast Guard, out on the..." Plum began, pointing out towards the nearby mist-shrouded cliffs.

"Dren tsch nyeeear!" Sun hissed, causing Plum to stare at her in open, shocked incomprehension.

"What she said!" Blustered Crichton, as the pair un-clicked their weapons from their holsters and ran from the castle.

They returned ten minutes later. "Well that solves the mystery of who was screaming earlier," Aeryn Sun remarked as she re-entered the kitchen, closely followed by Crichton. She glared at Plum, her manner so cold and hard he found he could not return her gaze. Crichton just sighed.

"There's another body. Or should I say, another set of remains," Crichton explained, dropping his gun on the kitchen table. "I wouldn't go up there if I were you: it's worse, worse than the last one."

"It is very slippery over there. With the mess. You could lose your footing," warned Aeryn. "It was probably good that you stayed here."

PC Plum felt a little put out by the implications of their remarks and was anxious to show that he hadn't spent the last few minutes idly passing the time.

"Ah, well, now, while you were gone, I managed to phone into town." Plum supplied. "It's only the lines off the island that are cut. Archie, he lives here, he's fine. He's gone into town to visit some friends, and he said to make ourselves at home. So I made tea," Plum offered with a hopeful grin. "And I had some shortbread I brought along with me," he held up a china plate covered in light brown dried food supplements.

Aeryn Sun stopped what she was doing and turned her head to stare down her nose at the hapless PC. After a few seconds squirming under her disdain he summoned the courage to say, "No tea for you then?"

"No. Thank you," she replied flatly before turning to catch hold of Crichton's arm.

"We need to gather everyone up as quickly as possible, get them to one place where they can be protected," she said to John. "This place seems quite defendable, by the standards of Erp-dwellings."

"But there's already been two murders nearby," pointed out Crichton as he (rather rudely, thought Plum) helped himself to some chocolate he'd found on the old wooden dresser in Archie's kitchen.

Aeryn nodded. "Somewhere else would likely be safer. Where would you suggest?" she asked, turning to Plum.

PC Plum considered this for a moment then his face lit up with a big grin as an answer came to him. "The community center, in town. It's nice and central and is a solid old place." Aeryn nodded acceptance of his suggestion.

"We'll need some ground transportation, to get everyone there quickly," Crichton added, between bites on Archie's chocolate.

"I know just the thing," grinned Plum, choosing to ignore the chocolate issue and pleased to be able to make constructive suggestions. Indeed, his new companions seemed to be going along with his ideas, which made him feel much better.

"Fine. Make the arrangements," ordered Aeryn. "I am going up to the top of the building to check on our surroundings."

PC Plum was starting to think that, of the two, it was Aeryn Sun that behaved more like the military person, John Crichton more like a civilian, no matter what they had claimed when he had first met them. There was something not quite right about those two. But, as the only people on the island who seemed willing and able to deal with whatever was on the loose, he decided that confronting them over it would have to wait.

xxxxxxxxx

Fifteen minutes later, a rather dilapidated old yellow school bus pulled up outside Archie's tower. It was too large to be truly a minibus, but too small to be truly a bus, inhabiting somewhere in between in the great scheme of bus taxonomy. The cheerful, energetic, middle-aged woman in the driver's seat honked her horn and waved ostentatiously to Plum before climbing out to meet him and his companions.

"Is it safe?" asked Aeryn quietly, in more shock and trepidation at the sight of their proposed transport than she had been at the dismembered bodies. Aeryn was starting to worry that the bus's horn might lead the murderer straight to them. Her hand unconsciously brushed aside the tail of her black leather coat to reveal both her coat's bright red lining and the large black handgun strapped to her thigh. As her eyes narrowed and probed the mist for anything that might be hiding out there, she missed the brief, shocked expression on the face of the bus driver on seeing the gun.

"Och, who's this, now Plummy?" the driver asked jovially, bounding up to them with a big smile, although she eyed Aeryn and her gun slightly warily.

"Officer Aeryn Sun, from Scotland Yard, and Commander John Crichton, from America," Plum said in a voice which he hoped indicated he didn't believe a word of it. "This is Edie McCredie. She runs the island bus service."

"Eee –Dee. McCree-Dee," Aeryn said to herself. To Plum and Edie it sounded as though she was testing out some unfamiliar sounds. Then she nodded, as if in approval. "Like Dee," she said in a quick aside to John, as her attention came back to those standing around her.

"Oh, you're a braw lass, to be sure, aren't you? Are you here on holiday?" asked Edie, her voice excited and animated.

Aeryn frowned trying to understand Edie. "No," she said bluntly, deciding that only the second part of what Edie had said was important.

"There's been a murder," John explained.

"Murder?" Exclaimed Edie, rolling the "R" in what seemed to Aeryn to be an excessively guttural manner. "Crivvens!"

"Actually, there have been two," Aeryn observed evenly, as though such a thing were commonplace and she was only making the point because she liked things to be just-so.

"Spencer…" Plum said, struggling with his voice.

Edie's hand went up to her mouth. "No!" was her shocked denial.

"We need your help in gathering everyone up. For their own safety. We need to take them all to a single place, one that's big enough for everyone and easy to protect. Officer Plum suggested your community center," Aeryn continued before marching towards the bus, her coat tails flapping behind her. "Come on!" she called to the other three without looking back.

John took Edie McCredie's elbow and guided the still shocked woman back towards the old yellow bus.

"Will you be alright to drive?" John asked Edie. She nodded. "Good," John continued. "Now, whatever she says, don't let Aeryn drive…" he whispered to her.

At that moment Aeryn popped her head back out of the bus. "I heard that, John," she snapped at him, although perhaps there was a hint of a grin there.


	3. Wouldn't You Like To Know?

"Please, could you stop the singing?" John pleaded to Edie as they rattled along another remote, narrow, winding and rolling coast road at a speed which sometimes made even Aeryn cringe. It was the third time he had asked about the singing. Edie seemed unable to drive without either singing or chattering. John wasn't sure which was worse: "The Wheels On The Bus Go Round And Round…" or her stream of consciousness observations on anything and everything.

Aeryn glanced back over her shoulder and gave John one of her rare smiles.

"Now you know how it feels, Erp-man," she teased.

That brought them both renewed curious glances and hushed whispers from many of the other occupants of the bus. All of the islanders stared at John and Aeryn with, at best, thinly veiled curiosity, their normal wariness of outsiders heightened by the news that there was murder afoot. When an islander was heard to mutter "Och. Strangers. From the outside…" John barely managed to restrain himself from bursting into laughter, recognizing the line from Toy Story, one of Dee's favourite videos. Aeryn tutted and decided to ignore them all. She clambered across the seat back to sit up front, beside Edie.

"Best put your seatbelt on," Edie mentioned to Aeryn.

"Seatbelt? Oh, safety harness…. Do you think we might crash?" Aeryn asked, her face betraying that she was somewhat concerned. "Maybe I should pilot the vehicle? I used to fly fighter craft and I have exceptional coordination…"

Edie flashed a friendly smile before continuing. "Och, a pilot? That must have been fun. You're a bonnie lassie, aren't you? Nice boots. They look well worn. I bet you've been around a wee bit?" Edie chattered on, effortlessly switching subjects as she ignored Aeryn's suggestion.

Aeryn looked confused. "I only understand about half of what you are saying," she replied solemnly. "But yes, I have travelled… extensively." She paused for a moment, then seemed to recognize where they were. "Stop here. Just for a moment, please," she ordered as politely as she knew how.

Aeryn got down from the bus and, with John watching carefully from the doorway, his gun drawn, she strode off into the heather, soon disappearing into the mist. A couple of minutes later she returned, hefting a long, black holdall with an ease which belied its obvious weight. When she set it down on the floor of the bus, metallic clanking sounds came from within. Both Edie and Plum gave her a quizzical look.

"Essential supplies," was all she would tell them, before hopping back up to sit beside Edie in the front seats.

The clattering, old yellow bus pulled up outside Balamory's community center, which both PC Plum and Edie McCredie had adamantly insisted was the best place for the whole community to gather, and disgorged its load of locals. A number of grim-faced local farmers already stood guard, clutching a motley collection of shotguns.

"We'd best just pop in and check everyone is safely there," said PC Plum.

"Fine," confirmed Aeryn. "I'll come with you to check on the defenses. You two wait here, guard the vehicle. I'll only be a few microts," she ordered Edie and John.

"Sooo. You two are together, then?" asked Edie, after Aeryn had disappeared inside the building. Edie was staring at John in a way that made him feel quite awkward.

John coughed and nodded. "Yeah. A few cyc…..years now."

"Any children?" The woman was as direct as a PK commando.

"Just the one. A boy, Dee. He's just over three."

"And is she always this bossy?" Edie continued, nodding towards the community center to indicate Aeryn. Her relentless questioning reminded John of when he had been at college and had been arrested for misbehaving in public with a fellow, female student.

John frowned, thinking it over, wondering how to answer. "Nah. She was much worse when we first met. Being a mom has mellowed her."

"Oooh," replied Edie, wide-eyed. "But you like bossy?" she asked, causing John's cheeks to redden. "I mean, if she was bossier when you met, and all, then you must…." John started to squirm, wishing he had gone inside with Aeryn.

Meanwhile, past the guarding farmers and inside the community center, PC Plum and Aeryn had been met by Miss Hoolie and the little gaggle of young children who seemed to constantly accompany the young teacher.

"Is everybody here now?" Plum asked.

"All except Archie and…." Miss Hoolie replied, distracted as she watched Aeryn stoop down to pick up a four or five year old girl, who was finding something at the top of Aeryn's boot to be fascinating.

"I'll take that," said Aeryn gently, as she nestled the child on to her hip and relieved the toddler of the huge double-bladed commando knife which she had found sheathed on Aeryn's calf. Miss Hoolie stared, goggle-eyed and dumbstruck.

"Shuanna!" Miss Hoolie scolded at last. "Don't touch…"

Aeryn jogged the little girl up and down and playfully rubbed the end of the little girl's nose. "It's alright, I was the same at her age. Always playing with some new weapon." Aeryn raised her knee to allow her to re-sheath the knife before pinching the child's cheek, making the infant giggle. Miss Hoolie stared, open mouthed, at Aeryn and the child for a moment. Then something about all the black leather Aeryn was wearing reminded her of what she had been going to say.

"My lodger! Mr. Scorpion!" Miss Hoolie exclaimed. "He's not here either," Aeryn's gaze shot round to look hard at the Schoolmarm and the smile vanished from Aeryn's face in an instant.

"This Mr. Scorpion….. Tell me about him," Aeryn commanded, setting down the child and gently pushing her back towards the main building.

"Mr. Scorpion," called PC Plum a little nervously as he let himself in to Miss Hoolie's house.

"We're out the back, in the conservatory," came a distant, cultured, English-accented voice. John un-holstered his sidearm and indicated to Plum that the policeman should lead on.

The two of them made their way through the small house and out into the airy, glass living area at the back. There, wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt, seated on a wicker sofa and holding a dainty china teacup and saucer, waited Scorpius.

"Ah, John, so pleased you could make it. I was just having some tea with my new friend Archie," he grinned and indicated a tall, young man with fly-away red hair, who was seated on a large, leather, comfortable-looking recliner-chair. The young man's unfortunate sartorial choice meant that, reclining as he was, he was showing a disturbing amount of pale and hairy leg from under his pink kilt. Some men looked good in pink, some men looked good in a kilt, but unfortunately Archie did not fall into either category, decided John.

A large, metallic contraption, about the size and shape of a large 'beat-box' stereo, lay beyond them on the floor, in a state of disassembly. Alongside it lay a pile of assorted items including string, sticky tape and empty detergent bottles.

"I say, old chap, is the gun thingy really necessary?" Archie asked with some vigour. Plum stood silently, waiting for a reply, while Scorpius smiled expectantly.

"Yes," replied John adamantly.

"I can't see why."

"Because I say so…"

"But…"

"And I'm the one holding the gun." That seemed to settle the matter, at least for now.

"Would you care for some tea?" John half-heard Scorpius ask, his voice calm and unconcerned.

"What? Emm, no. I'm strictly a coffee man," John said with a frown. John wasn't sure whether to be most wary of Scorpius, the chair or the contraption in pieces on the floor. He was struggling to think of anything sensible to say. "That's my shirt!" he blurted out.

"Indeed, John. I, err, borrowed it when I was last on Moya. I thought it would help me fit in, in case I ever needed to come here."

John cautiously stepped further into the room. The whole scenario was like something from a very bad, cheese-induced dream. His attention drifted back to the kilted man and the comfy leather chair. He peered more closely at the chair. It seemed to have some sort of ankle and wrist restraints, although they were not currently in use. John had to admire the speed with which Scorpius seemed to be adapting his new environment to his needs.

"No matter." Scorpius broke into his reverie. "Archie was telling me how he can invent or fix almost anything. Fascinating." John was fairly certain he didn't like the predatory smile which accompanied that remark.

At that moment, Aeryn appeared through the back door of the house, carrying, with the aid of some sort of shoulder harness, the largest, strangest rifle that Plum or Archie had ever seen. She kept the weapon trained steadily on Mr. Scorpion, although Plum suspected, from the look of the gun, that merely firing it in the same room would be sufficient to kill any target, and possibly everyone else present.

"Oh, I say, not another gun!" exclaimed Archie. Aeryn looked at him and frowned in confusion.

"It's OK Aeryn, I've got it covered," John told her, causing her to hold the weapon in a slightly less aggressive manner.

"Ah, but of course, the Radiant Officer Sun," Scorpius added. "So pleased you could join us. May I say you are looking as delightful as ever. It would seem marriage and motherhood agrees with you. Would you care for a custard cream?" He lifted a small china plate covered in what appeared to be dried food cubes towards her. She thought they looked a little like some of the cookies she had encountered on her last trip to Terra Firma. She scowled back at him as a matter of principle.

"They're frightfully good," Archie supplied, in a plumy English accent which made even Scorpius and Aeryn sound uncouth.

'No I frelling-well would not like a curse turd crumb.' She snapped back at Scorpius. John bit back the urge to correct her pronunciation, wisely deciding that this was neither the time nor the place, whilst Plum and Archie both looked shocked at her vocabulary.

"I say!" began Archie.

"Have you killed anyone since getting here, Scorpius?" she continued undaunted.

"Ah, as ever, straight to the point, no social niceties," Scorpius replied with a smile.

"Well, have you?" John echoed Aeryn. "Have you killed anyone here?"

"No," Scorpius confirmed incisively, setting down the biscuits as a pensive look crossed his face. He seemed genuinely surprised to be asked. "I take it from your question….?"

"Some of the islanders," supplied John.

"Spencer," Plum felt compelled to remember his name. "And Donald the Coast Guard. Up in the station by your house, Archie."

"No!" exclaimed Archie in horror.

"They had been torn apart, and part-baked," John continued.

"A Scarran?" asked Scorpius, his interest clearly piqued.

"The damage was extreme even by Scarran standards," said Aeryn, adding her professional opinion. "But I cannot think what else it might be."

"No matter: I presume whatever it is, it followed you through the wormhole, just as I presume you two followed me," Scorpius observed. "And now we're all stuck here?"

John nodded agreement. "So it seems."

"Very well. If I help you deal with whatever it is, then we will help each other get back, yes?" Scorpius suggested to Aeryn and John, fixing them each in turn with his toothsome smile.

"Look, would you mind awfully telling us what is going on here?" asked Archie, confused by all this talk of Scarrans and wormholes.

"Yes…" Plum began to add, shaking his head vigorously. He was the island's policeman: he felt sure he ought to know more about what was going on here. He was certain he wished he understood more. These three newcomers were most peculiar.

"No!" the three leather-clad outsiders chorused as one. Well, thought Plum, at least they seemed able to agree on something.

xxxxxx

After further heated discussion at Miss Hoolie's, the population of Balamory had been left at the community center, under the guard of the shot-gun-wielding farmers. Inside, Miss Hoolie, Edie McCredie and Archie led everyone in a round of uplifting community singing. Looking at the surly expressions of the farmers, Aeryn wondered quite how wise it was for the other islanders to start singing.

Aeryn, John, Scorpius and PC Plum left on foot, headed inland. As the sounds of singing slowly faded behind them Aeryn muttered something under her breath about how spending a monen imprisoned on a Scarran freighter was less torture.

"You should give me a weapon," insisted Scorpius to John for the fifth time.

"We've been through this before, with the bounty hunters, remember? And we haven't got guns enough to waste giving you an empty one this time," John riposted.

"Thank you for reminding me, John," Scorpius snarled back at him, baring his teeth.

"You're welcome."

"How about giving the enforcement officer one, then?" Scorpius indicated towards Plum, who was following close on Aeryn's booted heels like a giant puppy.

"So he can accidentally blow us all up with a pulse chamber overload? I. Don't. Think. So…," John replied.

"So why bring him at all?"

"Gotta be nice to the locals, Scorpy."

Scorpius shook his head, but then something else occurred to him. He pulled John aside by his elbow.

"John, why don't the humans recognize you? They should recognize you and Officer Sun. Unless we are in the past, as it were?" he asked, now with more of an urgent edge.

John thumbed at his lip and sighed. "Y'know I was wondering that myself. But I took a peek at a calendar in Archie's place, and we're in the right time."

"What then?"

John sighed heavily. "I reckon it's some sort of unrealised reality…"

"They are not real," observed Scorpius with a nod. "At least, not from our perspective."

"Well, yes. And no. I mean, look at them, they're just too… I dunno.. cutesy to be real, yeah? All that singing. And the unshakeable cheeriness. It's…. unreal."

"Interesting," Scorpius replied. "This whole version of your planet could be populated by people like these."

"Scary, ain't it?" John laughed, but it was without humour. He tugged at Scorpius' loud shirt. "Oddly enough, you seem to fit in just fine."

At that moment Aeryn turned and called back. That her suspicions were raised was obvious by the way she hefted her gun up towards Scorpius. "John, are you alright?" she demanded.

"Yeah, honey, just peachy. Me and Scorpy, we were just discussing philosophy," he gave her a thumbs up sign. She sighed, a long-suffering sigh.

"Fine. Let me know if you need me," she answered as she swung up the gun and continued walking.

Plum started to sing a little song to himself, to cheer himself up.

"Don't you dare start singing again," Aeryn warned, glaring him down. "At best, you will give away our position to the murderer!"

John caught up with the crestfallen and now silent Plum, "And at worst, she'll kick the crap out of you for annoying her. Don't make my wife angry. You wouldn't like her when she's angry," Crichton finished.

"W… wife?" Puzzled Plum.

"Yes." Interjected Scorpius, drawing level with Plum as Crichton strode ahead. "Intriguing pair, are they not?"

"Yeah, we're a regular Mulder and Scully," drawled John, calling back over his shoulder. Scorpius frowned in incomprehension, whilst Plum nodded his head and gave a cheesy grin, as though recent events all now made more sense to him.

They trudged on through the gloaming, in merciful silence, for some minutes more before Scorpius called a halt.

"My prowler is just over the next rise. I have equipment in it which should help us track our visitor. What should we do with him?" Scorpius finished, casually indicating PC Plum, "It would not be wise to let him see the prowler."

"We should not split up, John. It is too dangerous," Aeryn pointed out, not revealing whether she thought it was the murderer or a potential Scorpius double-cross which made it too dangerous for them to split up.

John pondered for a moment, rubbing his lip with his thumb. "Hell, if this goes to plan, he's going to see a whole lot more peculiar dren before the day is out." John made a decision and turned to Plum. "Look, there's a new design of stealth fighter parked up over there. It's classified, OK: No-one, I mean, no-one can know what you're going to see. Or there'll be "Men In Black" coming to have a talk to you. Got it?'

Plum nodded his understanding with vigour, his jowls flopping as he did so.

"Right then, lay on MacDuff," John said to Scorpius in a poor attempt at a Scottish accent. Both Aeryn and Scorpius stared at him askance with barely concealed irritation.

After routing around in the prowler's cockpit for a few microts, Scorpius emerged with a broad grin and an object about twice the size of a mobile phone.

"Wh.. what's that?" Plum asked as Scorpius walked back to the others.

"Just a little knick-knack," Scorpius grinned.

"Classified technology, very hush-hush," John added, tapping his nose with his forefinger.

"Do you have a reading?" asked Aeryn, cutting straight to the point.

"Erm, wait… yes. This way," indicated Scorpius.

"You first," John replied.

"But you and Officer Sun have the only weapons…"

"Exactly."

"Ah… I see." And with that, Scorpius started walking.

Half an arn later, they caught sight of what looked, to Plum, like a thoroughly unidentifiable crumpled wreck about the size of a couple of large trucks.

"A Stryker," Aeryn indicated, her voice hushed. John and Scorpius nodded. Plum looked at them askance. Her words clearly meant more to her and the other two than they did to him.

"So, it is a Scarren," John added.

"Likely after you and your wormholes," put in Scorpius.

"Or you and your wormholes," riposted John.

"Or you and your flowers," Scorpius batted back.

"Be quiet, the pair of you! Do you want them to hear you?" hissed Aeryn. At which point, Plum thought better of asking what on earth they were talking about. "John, Scorpius, head round to the right, Officer Plum and I will go in from the left flank. Keep each other in sight at all times." John seemed to be about to argue about something, but one look at his wife persuaded him to keep whatever his objection was to himself.

A few minutes later, Plum found himself just behind Aeryn Sun, creeping up the last 50 yards towards the strange, wrecked object. Without warning, a huge figure lurched up out of the mist, near where John and Scorpius could just be seen. With a single smash from his arm, the giant, who must have been seven foot tall, tossed Scorpius aside into the heather. John fired once from his oversized rifle – a strange discharge of energy, like a giant Taser, rather than the gunshot Plum had been expecting. But all his shot seemed to do was enrage the attacker further as he closed to grapple Crichton.

"Frell, I can't get a clear shot!" Plum heard Aeryn hiss, as she lowered her own rifle and charged towards the struggling pair.

Then everything was a blur of running, shouting, more Taser-like shots, this time from Aeryn Sun, a messy explosion of gore and bone, and then, a few seconds later, silence.

John came round to find Plum grinning at him.

"Did we win?" John burbled as his brain struggled to process what he was seeing and match it with a memory.

"You had us worried there for a minute," Plum rambled in turn.

"Is… is it dead?" John asked, his brain starting to get traction on the here and now.

Plum jiggled his head up and down in the affirmative, grinning like a loon. "Your wife took his head off with that funny gun of hers. Big chap, wasn't he?"

"Hmm," confirmed John. Despite his headache, he was clear that it was a good thing that they wouldn't have to explain to Plum why the murderer had a head like a giant lizard.

"Funny, scaly hands, though," Plum meandered on.

"That's what they get like if you don't moisturize and use sun-screen," John quipped, hoping that would be the end of the matter.

"Oh," replied Plum, nodding his head slowly, as though John was making perfect sense. John couldn't believe his luck that his offhand remark had been enough to satisfy Plum's curiosity.

"Where's Scorpius?"

"We could not find him," Aeryn replied, coming up to check on John, now she could see that her husband was back with them.

"Frell!" cursed John, earning a quizzical look from Plum.

"I reckon our Scarran had sustained some brain damage in the crash. That was what was making him so exceptionally violent," Aeryn expounded.

John ran his hand through his hair, only to discover a lump or two of something grey, sticky and gelatinous that had been lurking there. He quickly wiped it off on the mossy ground, wisely deciding not to look to confirm what it might be. "Brain damage? So you prescribed some special, PK brain surgery?" She harrumphed in reply. "Were there any others?"

"Just some Charrids. All long dead before we got here. Do you think you will be able to walk?"

"Oh, err, maybe. In a few microts."

"Good. You've got 300 microts or I'm carrying you." Aeryn threatened sternly as she brushed her hand across his forehead. "You gave me quite a scare there," she added more softly.

xxxxxx

A quarter arn later, on their way back to try to disable Scorpius' prowler, a dull, crumping explosion, which they felt more than heard, came from behind them. Plum looked shocked.

"What…?"

"I laid pulse charges. They should have completely destroyed the wreckage. And the bodies," Aeryn explained casually.

"B.. but….. Won't someone from the mainland be wanting to come and get everything? Evidence….?"

Aeryn nodded but did not say anything or even pause in her stride.

"We can't risk any of it getting into the wrong hands," John elaborated.

"Frell!" exclaimed Aeryn shortly afterwards, whilst Plum was still cogitating. A moment later, John's 'Humans Are Superior' senses told him why. A Prowler arced up through the mist ahead of them, then, with a single 'boom' it was gone.

"Bye bye, Scorpius," John muttered. "Archie must have come through mending his prowler with sticky-backed plastic and empty detergent bottles."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Miss Hoolie, Edie McCredie and PC Plum stood together in the isolated glen where they had come to say goodbye to John and Aeryn. Behind them stood the Farscape module, hatch open and ready to go.

The two visitors had insisted that they had to fly to the mainland straight away to explain everything to their superiors, rather than wait for the fog to lift and the authorities to come across to Balamory. PC Plum had accepted this without comment. He was finding that the events of the last few hours were stretching his ability to cope.

"I hear from Plummy that you have wee'uns of your own?" stated Miss Hoolie, holding out a small, brightly-wrapped present. "Och, the little ones all love a good sing-song, don't they, so I thought you might like a DVD, with some of my favourites, for you to take back with you."

"Ah, gee, that's just great. Thanks," replied John. "Dee could do with something other than your old Sesame Street videos to watch, hey honey?"

"Mmm. Hmm." Aeryn grunted non-committally. "Thank you. That is most. Thoughtful," She added. John could see she was doing a very good job of hiding her true feelings, even going so far as to turn her head slightly to conceal the twitch under her left eye. "John, we should go."

Taking the package, Aeryn walked the short distance to where the Farscape stood and climbed in. Thus she didn't see how attentively both Miss Hoolie and Edie McCredie watched John whilst he took off his coat and leant over the edge of the cockpit to pass both their coats and the bag of weapons in to Aeryn. Neither of them noticed Miss Hoolie sighing wistfully and giving a large, slightly sad smile when John finally climbed in to the module and pulled the hatch shut behind him.

As the Farscape lifted off and accelerated away into the mist, Plum frowned and turned towards Miss Hoolie and Edie.

"Funny airplane, hey? You know, I don't think Crichton really is with the American Air Force. Did you notice the symbols with IASA written on them? You know, I wonder if that's part of NASA?"

"Och, don't be silly Plummy; IASA, NASA? Nothing alike," explained Edie McCredie.

"Nothing at all alike," agreed Miss Hoolie. PC Plum looked confused for a moment, before giving a big, silly grin and nodding in agreement.

As they lifted off and headed up into the sky, Aeryn leaned across the cramped cockpit of the Farscape and whispered in John's ear.

"You told me something important once, John."

"Hmm? What? When?" Aeryn's breathy voice in John's ear made it difficult for him to multitask on flying the module and listening to the actual words.

"About the time we went to the Shadow Depository." Aeryn explained, with a broad, enigmatic smile. "Anyway, I think I understand, now. You said that singing helped with the madness. Well, it certainly did back there."

The End.


End file.
